


Ianto and Mycroft

by Natalia_lives



Category: Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: Ianto is a Holmes brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:56:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natalia_lives/pseuds/Natalia_lives
Summary: "Mycroft took a deep breath. “All right brother, I herby promise I won’t interfere with your life in the future.” His face was unreadable and his voice elegant and official, but his eyes...Mycroft’s eyes were desperate.  "Or a reason why Mycroft went overprotective regarding Sherlock...he already lost one.





	Ianto and Mycroft

**Author's Note:**

> Like others, I liked the idea of Ianto being a Holmes brother and I also wanted to write a crossover between these two.  
> If you have anything to add, please feel free. ;)  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> ps.: I really liked the Final Problem, but let us forget it for a sec ;)

 „No, thank you, but I don’t want or need your help in the future. Or in my life.” His younger brother voice was quite firm.  

Mycroft sat behind his desk and watched his brother standing by the window. They were in his apartment. It was early afternoon on a warm august day. A silence sat in between the two. Mycroft didn’t know what to say. Instead he inspected his brother silently.   

Dark hair, blue eyes, pale skin, tall, slim figure. He was studying in Wales recently; so he started to pick up the local accent. Actually Mycroft was sure he did it purposely, a difference between him and his brothers he could add to the list. He had to smile a little, despite his brother best effort to dress differently, when it comes to suits, like the two older Holmes, neither could he resist them. Now he’s wearing dark jeans with a light blue button down. He looked his age.  

Mycroft took a deep breath. “All right brother, I herby promise I won’t interfere with your life in the future.” His face was unreadable and his voice elegant and official, but his eyes...Mycroft’s eyes were desperate.  

Ianto stepped from the window, closer to the desk. “Thank you.” And offered his hand for a shake. Mycroft stud up and shook it. What else could he do?! “And look after him.” There was kindness and care in Ianto’s voice. He was perfectly aware of Sherlock condition. “I will.”  

After he was gone Mycroft slumped rather inelegantly back to his chair. Why all three of them had to be this difficult?!  

Ianto was the youngest from the three Holmes brothers and so different than the two older. First of all he, well he just wasn’t that much of a genius. Not that he was stupid or anything, he was just more ordinary than them. He didn’t deduce the smallest thing out of everything, didn’t made his teachers life difficult, he had friends. And while he was good at observing, he kept those to himself. And most of all, he understood people around him way better than his brothers did. He just finished history at the university and came to London. Mycroft was rather thankful that he wasn’t much of a problem during his student years. A few drunken nights, but nothing more. Not like Sherlock... So naturally when he arrived to the capital Mycroft did his best to make life easier for him. But he met resistance. He tried to talk to him a few times but Ianto resisted, and turned his help down. All he could do now was discrete monitoring. That pained him. 

* * *

 

“Torchwood London?!” Mycroft looked up from the paper he was reading, looking surprised.  

“Yes sir, everything matches, despite the name and birthplace change.” Anthea said quietly from the other side of the desk. Mycroft looked into the folder. _Ianto Jones._ And a picture of his brother.  

“Torchwood One. Yvonne Hartmann. She is one of the most dreadful people in the higher circle.” His voice was dreamy. He arched his eyebrows one more time then closed the folder. Anthea chuckled a bit. “Yes, she is one hell of a woman. In the bad way.”  They went on with their everyday work. 

* * *

 

Mycroft was deep in a confidential report when the first news came in.  

**_‘Canary Whorf in flames!’_  **

He stared at his monitor for long minutes. This was beyond him. Way beyond him. He felt useless. He felt a headache starting to attack his temples, the room started to spin with him… Mycroft closed his eyes and kept them shut for a minute. Took a deep breath then stood up, drank a few sip of water. He made himself sat back and carries on reading the report.  

* * *

 

Mycroft was about to go to bed one night when his personal phone rang. He stepped over to it and picked it up. “Hello?”  

“Mycroft, this is Anthea. I found Ianto.” 

After the fall of Torchwood One his brother disappeared completely. Ianto wasn’t found among the dead or the living. It wasn’t his style to give up hope, but he was close now. Sherlock overdosed not long ago, he was at the clinic. Again. Ianto went missing. Running a country seemed like a hobby next to these. 

“Thank you.” His voice was low, but Anthea could hear the gratitude in it. “Where is he?”  

“Torchwood Three, Cardiff.”  

“Ohh”  

* * *

 

 Mycroft loved these long meetings. Every few years every head of all governmental office had to sit and suffer it through. Everybody wanted to emphasise how important they are, and why they should still get the fat check.  Boring, as his brother would say.  

As Mycroft scanned the table, he saw Captain Jack Harkness, head of Torchwood Three.  Actually he was flirting with the lady next to him. Mycroft checked who she is in one of the papers in front of him. “Mhhh” he said, if Jack can make her smile like that, then he still has it. That lady was practically The Ice Queen.  

Then his elegant smile turned into concern. If Jack was here, so must his brother. Suddenly he lost all his interest in the speaker and waited impatiently for the break. Till then, he studied the layout of the building, if Ianto is here; he probably found some quiet corner for himself.  

He sat there, up in the top floor, by a window. A laptop on the window sill, a few folders in his lap, clearly he was working. But at the moment he stared out and watched the city.  

“I hope the vista is just as good as in South America.”  But despite the sarcasm, Mycroft voice was gentle and kind. Ianto winced upon hearing the voice.  He stud up slowly, placed the files from his lap next to the laptop, and then turned around. Black pin stripped suit with a deep blue shirt and purple tie.  Not Mycroft’s colours but suited his brother just fine.  

“Hello Mycroft.” Ianto’s voice was calm. They stared each other for a minute. “How did you find me?” Mycroft looked down at his shoes. “Anthea did.” Ianto stared at him somewhat questioningly. Mycroft opened his mouth to protest, but closed his mouth and quietly continued. “I asked her only after the fall. We didn’t find you, and then you sent that letter to Mummy. I know a cover story when I see one, created enough; anyway I got the message again. You, want to be left alone. But when this conference came up and Anthea worked with the guest list, your name was automatically there with the captain’s.”  

Mycroft had a mantra: “Caring is not an advantage.” And he lived by it. Most of the time, but when it came to his brothers… It wasn’t just responsibility, duty towards the parents or a fancy role. No. He loved his brothers and cared about them. And that caring eanted to make him step over and hug Ianto shortly but warmly.

“I see. I thought it might come up sooner or later. How’s Mummy?” His voice was light and an honest smile appeared on his face while saying the name. Mycroft understood the question.  

“She misses you, but understands that you want to live your life the way you wish.” While saying these he looked into his brothers eyes. Saying without words: we understand it and accept is but don’t like it. “Thank you.” He smiled honestly. “How’s Sherlock?” Mycroft made a face. “Out of the clinic. Again. Actually when he’s clean he started to work with the police, there’s an officer who looks after him.” And that was that. Mycroft didn’t know how to continue. “Ianto. How are you?” There was genuine concern in his voice.

“Better.” He started slowly. “I couldn’t stay in London, but the fall was one memory one could simply erase or talk about it with anyone…” He stopped suddenly and turned his face to the window. Mycroft could see the emotions running through him. He waited patiently. Ianto took a deep breath and tuned back. “I was already in the world and mysteries of Torchwood, it was logical to join them. Beside I love Cardiff.” He smiled to the last sentence. His while persona was welsh, down to the very precise accent. “I like it there, and I have everything.” It was now more elegant way of saying; he can still manage without Mycroft. “Ohh, and now we both have a view into the official and unofficial records of the nation.” “Ouch” Mycroft said in a mocking tone.  

He looked at his watch; he had to go back the short break was nearly up.  

“Mycroft, thank you for your concern. I am fine. And please give them my love.”  Ianto looked at him seriously, but his voice was gentle and kind. Mycroft looked up at him from the watch. He dropped all his guards for a moment and genuine brotherly love was on his face. He wanted to offer his hand but Ianto stepped closer and hugged him shortly. After the hug, like clockwork they returned to their usual personas.  

“Bye Ianto, it was good to see you.” Mycroft voice was cold a formal again. 

“You too.” The accent, which he dropped, for the last sentence, came back. “Bye.” 

* * *

 

Mycroft’s office worked a lot together with Torchwood Three, but mostly they communicated through e-mails. Or he and the good Captain entertained each other through phone. Probably annoyed Ianto a bit, but while he kept his distance, everything was fine. Getting into Torchwood files took even for Mycroft some time, they were encrypted excellently. He done it a few times, then he found a warning. He understood and stopped reading them.  

* * *

 

 ** _"Cardiff in flames! "_**

“Anthea! Please clear my schedule for today and channel me every bit of information regarding this!” Mycroft slammed the phone inelegantly back and slumped in his chair in the same fashion. He loosed his tie and ran his hand over his face. A headache started to rise in his temples. Canary Wharf all over again.  

Mycroft was up all night, reading boring files, pacing, and waiting for some news. Around four in the morning his phone rang.  

“Hello?” 

“Mycroft, I need your help.” It was Jack. But his voice was broken. That alone scared him.  

“What happened? Are you and your team all right?!” There was a bit more emotion in his voice then he would have wanted, but he couldn’t help it. 

“No, nothing is all right. Tosh and Owen died. And I need your help to clear things up at the Power plant.” Mycroft closed his eyes and thanked the Heavens his brother was still alive. “Jack, just let me know the details, I deal with everything.” Said Mycroft now in his usual calm voice. “Thank you!” 

* * *

 

Jack sat alone in his office. The Hub was humming softly around him. He sent both Gwen and Ianto home; even they need some well deserved sleep sometimes. He picked up the big thermos from the desk and poured himself a cup of still steaming coffee. (Ianto insisted doing, otherwise he wouldn’t leave.) He picked up the mug and stepped out to the main area. With time, the urge passed to shed a few tears every time when looking at the now empty stations, but he still took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The reading looked normal, the Rift was quiet. He sat down at the age old sofa and slowly sipped his coffee. Then his phone rang.  

“My, My! The British Government himself!” His voice turned immediately cheerful. 

“Hello Jack.” Mycroft voice echoed the warmness he reserved only to a few people. “I was alone in my office in this ungodly hour and for some weird reasons the thought of calling you popped into my mind.” “I take it as a compliment.” A huge grin was sitting on the Captain’s face. “But more than that, I wanted to know how you all are?” The grin slowly turned into a sad smile. “We’re doing fine Mycroft. Gwen and Ianto work more than they should, but they are the best I can ask for.” “And, had any thoughts of regrouping? If you need good people I can recommend a few.” “Thank you the kind offer Mycroft, but maybe later. How are you and your brother?” “Oh, I’m fine, though I am quite convinced that half of the politicians are specially bred aliens.” “If you’d know.” “And my brother is getting better, working more regularly now.” “Good to hear.” “Seriously Jack, need anything, call me.” “I will. And thank you Mycroft.” “You’re welcome.” 

They either over-charmed each other or had these short sentenced conversations through the phone. From the outside they seemed cold and impersonal, but they could both decipher the other emotions.    

* * *

   

“Sir, I hope you didn’t forget our visit in Peking next week?” Asked Anthea from the office door. Mycroft looked up a bit annoyed from his reading. What an accusation?! “Why do you ask?” “Because you made an appointment to this Wednesday.” Anthea’s voice stayed neutral but they both knew she won this round. “Then please, reorganise it.”  

So the next week Mycroft and Anthea flew to Peking. It was the second week of July. 

* * *

 

“What is the meaning of this?!” Mycroft’s voice was filled with uncontrolled rage.  

“I am sorry sir, but under these circumstances we can’t let you communicate with your government. It would be a breach in state security.” Answered the Chinese official, in a deadly calm voice.

Mycroft knew that threats would do nothing in this situation… Only thing he could do was waiting.  

He hated waiting.  

* * *

 

From the airport Mycroft went straight to Whitehall. He was filled with rage. Firstly he demanded a detailed report of everything that happened with the 456. Nobody dared to oppose him. He was frightfully quiet and cold.  

Then he went to his cubically lit office and read it through. Every single page, every single word.  

Upon finishing he put the report down carefully. Stood up. Straightened his suit and left his office for the night. His face showed nothing.  

On his way out Mycroft stepped to Anthea’s desk. Slowly she looked up from the familiar report. In surprise Mycroft’s eyes grew a bit bigger. He never saw so many emotions on her face. She pressed her lips into a thin line and tears were gleaming in her eyes. Back then, Mycroft didn’t quite understand why the unexpected emotional response from her, but it moved him. Slowly she bowed down to her and kissed her forehead. “I am sorry.” He whispered before standing back straight. He blinked to her one last time and silently left.  

Speaking about their emotions was never there strong side… 

* * *

 

“Sherlock, you in?” Asked Lestrade while knocking on the small flat’s door. A few seconds and some weird sound later the door opened up. “I hope you brought something interesting, otherwise, leave, I’m in a middle of this thing here…” Said the young and lanky consulting detective. 

“Trust me Sherlock it’s a good one.” Said the newly promoted DI in a bit more enthusiastic voice then he should, they were still talking about a murder, but Sherlock didn’t care about social niceties. “By the way, I ran in to your postman in the stares, he asked me to pass you this.” And handed Sherlock a black lined envelope.  

Sherlock opened it quietly.   

**_Ianto Laurence Oliver Holmes (Jones)_ **

**_19.VIII. 1989 – 8. VII. 2009_ **

**_..._ **

Lestrade didn’t pry but he could saw the pain that appeared in his eyes for a second. “Friend?”  

“Old acquaintance.” And his voice trailed off. He closed his eyes, shook his head, then with the usual glee in his eyes looked at the patiently waiting DI. “So you say ‘it’s a good one’?” Asked in a mocking tone. 

* * *

 

A year went by. Mycroft was still the British Government. Torchwood Two resign all his active right in ‘alien hunting’ to UNIT, and with that the century old institute of Torchwood ceased to exit. Sherlock moved into Baker Street and partnered up with the good doctor.  

But what still to that day came back to Mycroft so many times, was Anthea’s emotional response to the 456 report.  

* * *

 

Two years later he even got an answer to that.  

They were negotiating with some delegation, and during the day they had two dead hours. Anthea invited him up to her apartment, which was a few blocks away, and in hope of a good cup of tea Mycroft accepted it.  

While she was in the kitchen making tea, with a few thorough glances he looked around. Then his eyes came to halt on a frame filled with a few pictures. He stepped closer, despite the fact he didn’t want to be intruding, and stared at it. On one of the shelf’s a bigger black frame with a deep purple background showing three pictures. One was his brother Ianto, tiredly, but happily smiling to the camera, the other was Anthea in a similar tired way and the third showed them together.  

Anthea appeared quietly next to him, she stared at the frame too. A sad smile played along her lips. “That was at the Whitehall Ball.” Her voice was dreamy.

Mycroft’s face mirrored slight confusion. He looked at his assistant. Anthea chuckled a bit and in an open and honest voice said to him.

“I thought you knew about us.”

 

2017-08-12


End file.
